“How long will it take you to draft an agreement?” he asked abruptly.
“I’ll have to consult with a prenuptial expert, get a financial statement from your accountant, write out a schedule of separate property and an expense-payment schedule and a waiver of interest in the business…although maybe it would be safer to establish a trust to protect Wisnewski Industries. I’m guessing a month, maybe two—”
“You have until Thursday.”
“Until Thursday! But—” Larry stopped midsentence. Something in Garek’s expression must have made him rethink what he was about to say.
“Very well,” the lawyer agreed. “I’ll have it ready.”
Larry left, and Garek stared for a moment at the painting of Woman in Blue, before tur
ning his gaze to the independent auditor’s report on his desk. He could guess what it contained. Trouble. Lots of trouble.
The Lachland buyout had been progressing so smoothly—perhaps too smoothly. He damn well should have known that no deal ever happened that easily.
He picked up the phone.
“I’m going to have to spend the day going over the auditor’s report,” he told Mrs. Grist curtly. “Call Ms. Hernandez and cancel our lunch.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ellie’s treatment when she entered Wisnewski Industries on Thursday was very different from the first time she’d gone there. The security guard escorted her up the elevator himself, telling her that if she needed anything to just let him know.
“Thank you,” Ellie responded, only half aware of his eager solicitude. She was thinking of Garek.
It was probably just as well that he’d canceled their lunch on Monday. She’d been terribly busy that whole day—and on Tuesday and Wednesday, also. She’d had to cancel her lease since Martina had decided to move in with friends who needed a third roommate. She’d also had to notify the utilities and the newspapers, both the Tribune and the Sun Times, and buy herself a wedding dress; she’d found a beautiful white lace frock in a small boutique off Michigan Avenue for half price. Ellie’d also arranged for Bertrice to fill in for her at the gallery while she was on her honeymoon. Bertrice had been reluctant at first, but had changed her mind when she heard how much Garek was paying.
The power of money, Ellie thought.
But the idea didn’t bother her as much as it once had. She could put Garek’s money to good use, she realized. She appreciated that now in a way she hadn’t been able to a year ago. It had been silly of her to fear wealth. Money couldn’t destroy what she and Garek had. She wouldn’t let it.
But of course, that brought her to her other problem—there were a few things she should tell Garek. None of them was really relevant to their relationship, but he had a right to know.
She’d intended to tell him on Monday, but then his assistant had called to cancel. She hadn’t thought too much about it, imagining that he must be extremely busy. She’d expected he would call her that night.
When he hadn’t, she’d been half disappointed, half relieved. But then, when another day passed, and he still didn’t call, she began to feel more and more uncertain.
Why didn’t he call her? True, they’d agreed not to meet, but did that preclude telephone conversations, as well? Was he having second thoughts? Now that she thought about it, he hadn’t really said he loved her. The words hadn’t seemed necessary at the time. They’d been implicit in his actions.
Hadn’t they?
Of course they had. She was acting like a ninny. She should just call him…
And so she had. He’d sounded a bit curt at first, but when she told him she wanted to meet him for lunch, he’d agreed.
“Tomorrow would be good. There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he’d said.
“Me, too.” She hesitated a moment, then asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” And then, “I just hate this damn waiting.”
The frustration and longing in his voice had sent her spirits soaring. She’d been smiling when she hung up the phone.
He did love her, she thought now as she stepped off the elevator. And she loved him…
His assistant, talking on the phone, smiled and motioned her toward the office. Ellie entered quietly and saw him sitting at his desk, his hair rumpled, his tie askew, his jacket straining across his shoulders as he bent over some papers.
Dear heaven, how she loved him. For a moment, the emotion almost overwhelmed her. She felt fluttery and elated and buoyant just looking at him. How could she have doubted it for a second?